Consonance 3055
by Fireflyleo
Summary: They say it's rare, these kinds of things. And to tangle those two together! We can only imagine what it was thinking. One wish for redemption will tilt the whole world on it's axis. Draco/Female Harry.
1. To Die For

Author's Note: Hey, all. Got a new bout of inspiration here partially on account of author Phoenix Star's Unorthodox Matchmakers. Great fiction. I high recommend it to everyone. Please enjoy the story.

Warning: This is a female Harry/Draco fiction. Harrity "Harry" Potter was born female. This is also rated M for possible future material and colorful cursing - mostly on the part of Ron. Also... There will be spoilers! If you have not read all seven books, turn back now if you don't want a spoiler. Movie fans, if you haven't read the books you might be a tad confused at parts, but no worries just pop me an email and I'll explain. I'm basing this unstrictly on the books. By unstrictly, I mean there may be some movie stuff in there as well but mostly the books.

Disclaimer: J.R. Rowling is the fabulous writer of the Harry Potter series. She owns everything. Also, anything reminiscent of Unorthodox Matchmakers is property of Phoenix Star. Once again great fic, go read it. ...After reading mine of course.

Consonance 3055

To Die For

People were scattered about the Great Hall, crying, mourning, praying, laughing, celebrating the end of the Second Wizard War and the fall of the Dark Lord for good this time. A somber though not all together unpleasant atmosphere hovered about the hall. Students stayed huddled together holding quiet conversation, and though they were bruised and battered, their expressions were that of humble victory. An old man - he looks a bit like Dumbeldore - shared a drink with Finnigan and Thomas. Longbottom and his grandmother, her wrinkled face beaming with pride, carried on together, the gleaming sword of Gryffindor at their side. The centaur professor sat in a corner surrounded by a small group of house elves. By all appearances he looked to be telling them a story.

The bodies of the fallen, laid to rest for the time being on the elevated stage where the professors of Hogwarts usually supped, seemed to be at peace with the happenings around them. He could see Fred, or is it George, Weasley clearly as he was visited by a steady come and go of the remaining Weasley clan. Kingsley Shacklebolt paced along the aisle, occasionally stopping and starting again. The Indian twins knelt beside the body of a girl whose name he believed to be Brown.

And on the sidelines of it all, were the three Malfoys. No one paid them any mind, something for which the youngest Malfoy was most grateful for later. Draco was content to stay beside his parents' forms, his mother's head resting against his father's chest, the man's arm around her protectively. He merely listened as they whispered, incoherent words that meant nothing to him, their son. Draco's own arm was still held in the firm grasp of his mother's shaking hand, and his eyes slid shut.

The mark on his arm no longer burned.

"Where is my daughter?"

The voices echoed strong from the entrance hall. Professor McGonagall stood from her place, a hand on her chest while Shacklebolt approached the entrance just as a smaller figure entered the hall. The witch, he noted, was carrying a small bundle on a harness about her chest. At first glance, he believed it to be his Aunt Bellatrix returned from the dead, but a second look showed otherwise.

"Andromeda," called Shacklebolt, attempting to head the woman off before she reach too deep into the hall.

Narcissa, who eyes had be closed up until now, opened her eyes to gaze at her long, lost sister for the first time in over twenty years.

"Kingsley, don't chide me, now. I want to see my daughter. Where is Nymphadora?"

The new Minister of Magic clenched his fists together tightly but took the woman's arm and led her to the back of the hall where the bodies of Remus and Nymphadora Lupin had been laid to rest, their hands nearly touching.

Andromeda Tonks did not break down, nor did she cry out. Instead, she lowered herself to the floor, one hand clenching the bundle about her waist, the other reaching for the cold hand of her daughter. From where he sat, Draco could just barely make out the single tear that slid down her face. Narcissa's hand tightened about her son's, and she pulled him ever closer, her breath ragged.

All was silent in the Great Hall out of respect for this mysterious woman's quiet sorrow. Everyone watching, yet not watching, her pain. Mrs. Weasley and Shacklebolt were only ones brave enough to venture forth into her space. The seconds seemed to stretch for hours until finally, Mrs. Tonks stood, turning to the people around her.

"Potter," she called, a slight sniffle to her voice. "Where is Harrity Potter?"

All at once, Shacklebolt and Mrs. Weasley started searching the hall.

"I'm here," came the voice of Potter. She seemed to appear out of nowhere from the back of the hall.

"I'm here, Mrs. Tonks," she said again as she reached the woman. Her sudden appearance seemed to be the cue for the rest of the hall. Everyone else returned to their conversations and their own private mourning. All except for one.

"Harrity…" Andromeda's words seemed to escape her for the moment.

"Mrs. Tonks-"

"Please, call me Andromeda."

"Andromeda… I'm so sorry. I never meant for things to turn out like this. I never wanted-"

"Hush, child, I do not blame you."

She began shuffling through the sack at her chest.

"Harrity James Potter, there's someone I've brought you to meet."

The-Girl-Who-Lived stepped closer.

"Harrity, I would like to introduce you to your godson, Ted Remus Lupin."

The baby boy slept soundly in his grandmother's arms. His face screwed up slightly at the intruding light, but he slept on. Potter's face softened, fresh tears springing forth in her emerald gaze at the sight. Draco realized that that was his second cousin sleeping in the older witch's arms.

"Would you like to hold him?"

The younger woman did not answer; she merely nodded her head. Andromeda coached her, quietly placing the baby into her arms.

Draco's insides clenched, painfully, and he stood.

"Draco?"

"I'm fine, mother. I just fancy a walk."

"Be careful, darling."

With a curt nod to his father, Draco left the Great Hall, walking past his mother and father wrapped tightly around each other, past the Weasley and the Muggle-Born as his fingers thread through her bushy hair, past the deceased werewolf and his wife all but holding hands in their deaths, and away from Potter. Potter, whose smile sparkled incessantly with warmth and kindness. Potter, whose ability to love and care and protect had saved them all. Potter, whose heart had already made a place for the child in her arms. Potter, whose eyes had never held anything but contempt and loathing for _him_.

It didn't even register how far he'd gone until the Black Lake lay before him, its surface inky black glass beneath the night's sky.

He lowered himself into the grass, notably calmer than before.

He didn't know why it bothered him so. All that pain and heartache in one room. Too much emotion, it made him sick, not with disgust but… something else. A young woman holding a baby in her arms against a background of death and destruction… that was all it should have been. But the feeling on her face, watching the slow development of undying love and devotion, why had it affected him so? Why had he suddenly felt he was drowning in his own skin, suffocating under an onslaught of overwhelming misery?

He didn't understand it.

"What is wrong with me?"

His family was whole. His parents were there, solid and unwavering in their love for him and each other. Bellatrix, his aunt, was dead and gone, but he couldn't really mourn the loss of a woman her barely knew, let alone liked. He had nothing to worry about any longer. Voldemort was gone.

Lord Voldemort was gone, killed by the backlash of his own curse.

"But it's over, now. He's gone. Gone for good this time. I should be happy."

But he wasn't. He felt alone.

Granger and Weasley, Longbottom and Lovegood, his parents…

He pulled the sleeve of his left arm. The Dark Mark, though dull and lifeless, was still burned into his skin. He would carry it with him the rest of his life, a brand for his sins. Who would ever want someone like that? A pair of kind, honest eyes looked back at him. But he shook the vision away.

Draco stood from his place and walked up to the very edge of the lake and picked up a few flat stones. He knew he always had his parents. They would always be there for him, no matter what, but it just wasn't the same.

"I wish there was somebody who could understand."

He threw. The first stone skipped once before sinking.

"I wish there was somebody out there willing to give me a second chance."

The second stone skipped once as well.

"Someone who could see me for who I really am. Someone who could help me be the person I want to be."

The third skipped twice.

"I wish…" His fourth throw stuttered on the water, and he suddenly recalled the Weasley's screams for his girlfriend that night at the manor when Bellatrix had picked the mudblo- no muggle-born for interrogation. "I wish for something to protect, something worth fighting for."

He tossed his final stone once, twice, three times in his hands and took aim.

"I so bloody tired of this emptiness. I want to feel complete."

The stone skipped three times along the surface of the lake barely making a sound as it bounced.

He watched it disappear below the surface, heaved a long sigh, and shook his head. Well now didn't he feel silly, talking to himself like that. At least no one had been there to witness it. He felt better though, if that stood for anything.

So Draco left the lakeside to return to the castle.

He never saw the pulsing of his last stone or the bubbling of the water where it sank. He never knew of the object he had just cast into the Black Lake or it's propensity for listening without hearing. He most definitely never suspected that he had just set into motion the series of events that would so intrigue us in the year to come.

For at that very moment, deep in the Department of Mysteries, behind a door that was never unlocked, something was stirring.

TBC

And that's the first chapter/prologue. My beta and I couldn't decide which to make it. Short, I know, and I can guarantee this will be the shortest chapter you get from me, but I hope you like it. More should be coming soon.

~Firefly

* * *

Hey Everyone, it's Firefly here. I'm sure you've realized that I have deleted the following chapters from the web. I've been working on chapter 5 of the plotline i decided for originally, and it's just not working out.

I've decided to go through and do a revamp of the chapters, so you'll be getting updates on material that has been altered to fit my new concept. I should have waited a while longer to post this story, and I apologize for any irritation or frustration this may cause.


	2. Unchained

Author's Note: Hey everyone, sorry to be misleading, but this isn't an update, though I will say that a reread of this chapter would be beneficial as I've changed a few details to fit with the way i am rehashing the plot line for this story. I'm in the process of revamping the story to make it more original and carry out the point I want to make better. Let me know what you think of the changes.

Warnings: Female Harry, Draco/Harry, Courtroom sequences and minor cursing.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I own the song for which this chapter's title was taken. The song is Unchained by Lacuna Coil. Go check it out. I also do not own anything related to Unorthodox Matchmakers.

Consonance 3055

Unchained

Harrity Potter wasn't just nervous as all hell. She was absolutely terrified. She abhorred public speaking on a regular day, but adding the Wizengamot into the equation just made the whole ordeal downright nauseating.

She hadn't been nearly this anxious as when it had been herself on trial. Okay, maybe she had been, but that hearing had been so long ago it hardly seemed to matter anymore. No, this time it wasn't her future on the line. This time, her word could mean the difference between life imprisonment, even execution, and freedom for three people she hardly even knew, let alone liked.

"So you're really going to go through with this?"

"I have to, Ron. You don't understand."

"We know, Harry," inserted Hermione. "But we can't help but worry. What if someone decides to turn this against you? What if-"

"The opinion of some daft extremist is the last thing I'm worried about right now, Hermione."

"But, Harry-"

"You don't think I'm scared, Hermione. I'm absolutely petrified, but I can't back out. I owe it to them to at least get the Wizengamot to lighten the sentence."

Truth be told, she doubted she'd be able to sleep at night if she didn't go through with it. The last thing that family deserved was more suffering.

Ron and Hermione were looking at her with expressions of exasperation and sympathy, respectively. They'd both tried to convince her that it wasn't necessary, that there had been plenty of people there to witness the defection. But they were wrong. There was a part of the story only she could tell, and it was a part that had to be told. Ron's reasoning, however, might've been a tad harsher.

"They're Death Eaters, Harry. You don't owe them anything."

"They _were_ Death Eaters, Ron. And while that may or may not be true, I still have my honor to uphold."

That seemed to consol the redhead, and her best friend sighed at her.

"Alright, mate. You've got to do what you've got to do."

"Thanks, Ron."

He nodded at her with a small smile. Hermione put her hand on his shoulder in approval.

"We'll wait here for you, Harry."

"Right," she said. "I'll see you in a bit."

And Harrity turned to face the steel door before her. The guard gave her an incredulous look. Oh for the sake of all Wizardom, really. To think, after all that preamble she might not be able to convince the doorman of all people to let her into the courtroom. For a moment, she feared she might have to force her way in – because she would get in, that was never a question – but then recognition dawned in his features. Granted, he looked about ready to scold her.

"You do realize that trial started a while ago."

"Yes, sir, and I'm sorry, I'm late, but I really do need to get in there."

He looked at her critically, but he eventually conceded, unlocking the door.

"Good luck, Miss Potter."

"Thank you."

And she stepped through the opened door into the courtroom and joint trial of the family Malfoy.

His head hurt. Everything seemed fuzzy and distorted. He wasn't if certain it was due to the infrequent exposure he'd had to dementors or the constant ramblings of ministry personnel he'd had to endure over the last few months, but Draco was sure that he couldn't take much more of this without suffering severe mental and physical damage. He felt humiliated and angry, but most of all exhausted. He just wanted everything to end. The investigations, the searches, the interrogations, and most of all this bloody trial.

He wasn't the only one.

Narcissa Malfoy, though the perfect picture of poise and diginity, was looking frayed around the edges, and his father, Lucius, back ram-rod straight with pride, looked drained, the little color he normally carried all but gone from his shadowed face.

They, he and his parents, had been chained, shackled, tied down in this courtroom for the last hour, and Draco wasn't sure when it would all be over. If you asked Draco, he'd tell you this trial was a sham. His father was convinced that there wasn't a power in the world that could save them from Azkaban, and despite the testimonies that were being given for their behalf, Draco couldn't help but agree with Lucius.

None of the Wizengamot looked convinced. In fact, it seemed the majority wasn't even listening, save for a select few. Hardly enough to wave a conviction.

Professor McGonagall had just completed her testimony of having witnessed the Malfoys stop fighting on You-Know-Who's behalf at the Battle for Hogwarts, and the newly elected Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, was speaking.

"Very well, thank you Professor McGonagall. Do we have any other witnesses-"

"With all do respect, Minister," inserted Pius Thicknesse, recovered from his time under the Imperius Curse and assuming his position as the Head of Magical Law Enforcement once again. "It is my belief that the defense has been given plenty of opportunity to prove their innocence. Though I suspect most of us would agree that the sentiment is somewhat useless. After all, has not Lucius Malfoy already once served in Azkaban for the conviction of acting as a Death Eater? A sentence for which he was not released but evacuated by the Dark Lord, himself."

The surrounding witches and wizards looked on in only mild surprise, but no one denied the claim. Next to Draco, his father seethed.

"My sins, Thicknesse, have no reflection on the innocence of my family!"

"He's right, Thicknesse," said Shacklebolt. "You make a severe insinuation."

"Yes, yes, Minister. I apologize, but if none of our brethren are opposed I would like to call to vote the verdict of the Wizengamot on this day the 15th of August for the family Malfoy."

Shacklebolt studied Thicknesse carefully, suspicion and disapproval apparent in his gaze, before addressing the rest of the council.

"Are there any, other than myself, who oppose this?"

Silence.

"Very well, Pius. You may proceed."

"Thank you, Minister." The head of law enforcement cleared his throat airily. "We are here today to decide the guilt or innocence of the three individuals Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, and Draco Malfoy, who are here today under the charges of dealing and consorting with known dark wizards and witches, functioning as accomplices to the heinous crimes of Lord Voldemort, and in the case of Mr. Lucius Malfoy and Mr. Draco Malfoy serving as servants of the Dark Lord under the title of Death Eater. All those who find the defendants guilty, please-"

"Witness for the defense, Harrity James Potter."

A murmur traversed the crowd, and Harrity James Potter, looking for all the world exactly like one would expect the witch that saved the wizarding world to look, stepped boldly into the courtroom, wand in hand – the very one she'd won from Lord Voldemort himself. Her robes, business-styled for the occasion, bustled about her, and the witch's hat on her head slanted over her eyes just enough to prove mysterious. Draco's mother and father exchanged cursory glances over Draco's head, confusion and trace amounts of distrust apparent on their faces. Potter certainly knew how to make a statement when she felt the need.

Thicknesse, for all his pomp and circumstance, actually stuttered.

"M-Miss P-Potter. I-I am sorry but we've already decided to vote."

"Yes, I noticed, Mr. Thicknesse, and I apologize for my tardiness, but I have something important to say."

"M-Miss I'm a-afraid we cannot-"

"Thicknesse, enough."

Shacklebolt's deep baritone cut across the head of department with all the inferred violence of a whip.

"The Wizengamot will recognize, now, the testimony of Miss Harrity James Potter."

"Thank you, Minister."

Potter approached the forefront of the courtroom, taking the proffered seat Professor McGonagall had vacated not moments before. When she spoke, it was with confidence. The regality of truth and conviction rang clear in her voice.

"It is impossible to deny the accusations that have been brought against the Malfoy family. They are on many counts guilty."

What the bloody hell was Potter playing at? The entire courtroom buzzed with confusion and curiousity. Draco felt the beginnings of rage bubble beneath the surface. How dare she step forward like this only to throw their name to the dogs? Had he not been currently chained to his seat, leashed like a rabid dog, he might have obeyed the urge to attack her, wand or no wand.

"However!" continued the Chosen One, firmly, "Be that as it may. It is my belief that the charges against them be dropped and the Malfoys set free without suffering imprisonment or punishment."

The effect was immediate and savage as an unleashed tornado.

Outrage sounded from the spectators and council. Demands for answers and justification of Potters words. "Why?" "How can we let them free?" "Have you gone daft!" The cacophony so great, Draco's ears began to pulse painfully in time with the racket. A pity, he couldn't move to cover them, only able to clench his fingers to the seat until they bled. The shock at her words had been too great. Any anger at the Girl-Who-Lived drained from Draco to be replaced by genuine awe and possibly a hint of shame, but he swallows that down like a dose of sour medicine. He had nothing to be ashamed of.

"Silence! Order! Order!"

Shacklebolt slammed his mallet hard onto the wood of his desk; the sound was loud enough to startle just about everyone into what can only be described as a silence of the dead. Had he not been part of the subject of debate, not to mention in fear for his life, Draco could have laughed at the looks on the Wizengamot's faces.

"Miss Potter, I must demand an explanation!"

"Not at all, Minister. I merely say that were it not for the actions taken by the accused, I would be not be standing before you today. In fact, I would very likely be dead, and by extension, Voldemort would still be alive and in power." More murmuring. Draco looked first to his father and then mother in askance. Narcissa had not turned her eyes away from The-Girl-Who-Lived since her entrance to the courtroom. She followed the younger witch's words with a mixture of dawning comprehension and newfound respect. "In fact, I owe my life twice in part to this family, once on account of Draco Malfoy, if not indirectly, and another on account of Mistress Narcissa Malfoy."

And all at once, Draco felt as though he was looking at someone he'd never met before in his entire life.

"Croaker, I think we have a problem."

"What is it, Wilby?"

The younger Unspeakable looked nervous, his hazel eyes tense and his brown hair shaggier than normal as though he'd been dragging his fingers through it too often. This was odd. Croaker had garnered the impression that Wilby was one of the utmost organized new hires the Department of Mysteries had ever had. He should know. Croaker had only been with department for nearly two decades.

"There's a problem with item 3055. I think it might be reacting to something."

"3055? You mean in the Love Chamber."

"Yes, sir."

"I see. Well let's go have a look then, shall we?"

Wilby nodded, following after Croaker. When they reached the Ever-locked room, Wilby performed the enchantment that only the workers of the department of mysteries knew, and the door to the Love Chamber creaked open, allowing Croaker and the young Unspeakable entry.

At first glance, all appeared well. The amortentia bubbled happily in its fountain. Next to it, a bookcase full of different bobs and ends: amulets, love dolls, vials of aphrodisiacs, charms, and the greatest pieces of romantic literature and poetry ever written by wizards and muggles alike. Each item was labeled and numbered, looking perfectly harmless in their resting place.

All except one, that is.

Croaker approached the discrete black-metal box warily as it shook and vibrated against the silver latch and lock holding it shut, as if whatever was inside it was trying to get out. The senior Unspeakable made to touch the lid with his wand tip, but before he could come within even an inch of it, the box gave a violent lurch clean off the shelf.

"Hmm," hummed Croaker. "Call on Jenks, will you, Wilby? He might be able to shed some light on this situation."

"Yes, sir. Right away, sir."

The junior Unspeakable scurried away to the Room of Prophecy where his target should have been, leaving Croaker alone in the Love Chamber, the little black chest still vibrating across. Despite having worked on Level 9 for so many years, Croaker had little experience with the Love Chamber. He'd been inside a fair amount of times and was familiar with the territory, but he'd never been one to study the mysteries surrounding the concept of love. His inclinations had been more toward death and mysteries of the world beyond it. There was more to fear, more to unravel, he thought.

He'd never think to be afraid of love or anything related to it, but for some reason or another watching this black chest jump and stutter across the floor put him very on edge. By Merlin's beard, what was hidden in this chamber that needed out so desperately.

"Croaker, you've asked for me."

He turned to find Wilby reentering the room followed closely by a plump, pretty little witch about half his size with rosy cheeks and sparkling blue eyes.

"Ah, Jenks. Yes, we thought you might be able to give us some insight on this."

He gestured to the still pulsing chest on the floor.

Jenks hummed in curiosity, pulling a monocle from her inside pocket.

"How intriguing."

She moved closer until she was just a mere foot from the box, while Croaker and Wilby kept their distance of a safe seven and a half.

"Did you find it like this, Wilby?"

"Y-yes, ma'am, but it was on the shelf before. It sort of threw itself off when Mr. Croaker tried to touch it."

"I see."

"What is it, Jenks?" asked Croaker.

She looked over her shoulder at him, one eye magnified behind the monocle.

"Item 3055, Mr. Croaker, has not been active in over four centuries. In fact, I don't believe this chest has ever been opened. The item in question found its way to the department in 1587 by the donation of Mrs. Anne Shakespeare (nee Hathaway) after her marriage to the muggle, William Shakespeare. She claimed the item was what brought about their love and marriage."

"Yes, but what is it?" rasped Croaker, irritated.

She glanced at him appraisingly.

"A powerful source of old magic, no doubt. Sadly, no one in the department has been able to unlock the box."

The box gave another violent lurch.

"The theory is that whatever item 3055 really is, it has the power to bring people together. We suspect it has something to do with a wish, but really who knows. The artifact has never so much as twitched since it's been here."

Croaker raised an eyebrow; his teeth worried his bottom lip, a frown on his face.

"Then why is it acting up now?"

Jenks laughed.

"You're guess is as good as mine, Croaker. I'd like to think it's found someone worth paying some attention to."

"Is there a way to find out?"

Wilby's little voice barely broke the racket the chest started to make all at once. Clicking and clanking and clacking about the floor.

"Well there is one," declared Jenks, with an excited smile on her face. "Open the chest."

And before Croaker or Wilby could to anything to stop her, the witch raised her wand.

Harrity spared no detail. She relayed to the Wizengamot the events that took place at Malfoy manor that past Easter holiday, about Draco's reluctance to reveal Harry's identity and how it had kept Voldemort away from the manor just that much longer. Those moments, however sparse and insignificant they may have seemed, had helped her, Ron, and Hermione survive that night. She also cited the torture the family had been put through upon Voldemort's return to the manor to find that the trio had escaped. Harry told them about what happened in the Forbidden Forest. The Killing Curse that failed once more to end her life and the protection Mrs. Malfoy had gifted her by lying to the Dark Lord, and how without her, she would surely be dead if not worse, and Lord Voldemort would still be at large today had it not been for that little white lie.

The Wizengamot took in her testimony with nothing less than the most devote of silences. The fluttering in her stomach never settled (Luna would tell her it was just a few stray wackspurts flapping about her insides), but she didn't show it, keeping her head high and her hands in her pockets despite the attention on her. When she finished, she looked appealingly to Kingsley, unsure how to proceed, the surrounding witches and wizards seemingly still digesting her words, but the scrutiny was dissipating, as they all turned to their neighbor in hushed debate.

"Miss Potter, does that conclude your testimony?"

"Yes, Minister."

"Thank you, Miss Potter, you may take your seat."

Harry did as requested, choosing a seat closer to the back of the side bar of the courtroom. Meanwhile the Wizengamot began to buzz once more until Kingsley's mallet came down once again.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, please. We've just been delivered some rather remarkable testimony. Is there anyone…"

She released an audible sigh, effectively tuning out the rest of the debate and sinking into the hard wood of her bench. It would be over soon enough. Now, all that was left was the wait. She'd done her part.

The hairs at the back of her neck prickled.

She angled herself to locate the source of her discomfort, and her tired green gaze met steel gray. Malfoy was staring directly at her from his place, chained between his parents. It wasn't right. He looked worn and pale – the dementors had had their turns with him no doubt - but not scared, or at the very least if he was afraid, she couldn't tell. She would have expected him to look away now that she'd caught him staring, but he didn't. Instead he maintains his visage, an unreadable expression on his face. It was unnerving. She wouldn't have been able to stop the tightening of her features even if she'd wanted to.

Why was he staring at her? Was he really so shocked that she'd come here today?

Her rising temper squashed down any sympathy that may have tried to bubble up. Malfoy may or may not deserve a trip to Azkaban, but he certainly did not deserve her sympathy. She had a life debt to repay, and that was all.

"Is the Wizengamot prepared to pass judgment?"

There were no oppositions.

"Then let us proceed. We will vote for each defendant individually."

There was a murmur of approval.

"In the case of Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy (nee: Black)…"

Narcissa's was a landslide vote of innocence. The chains dispersed from her person, and she rose to place herself between her son and husband. Having never been a Death Eater, herself, and for playing such a vital role to the end of the war, the Wizengamot's view on her was insured to be lenient. Only one wizard voted against her.

"In the case of Mr. Draco Lucius Malfoy…" Narcissa's hands reached for her son's shoulders. "…all who find the defendant guilty, raise their hand."

There were a few: Pius Thicknesse once again, Harry noted, along with several wizards Harry recognized as Aurors, and…

"All those in favor of dismissing the charges against the defendant."

Shacklebolt himself raised his hand along with a good majority of the Wizengamot. The chains holding the blonde to his chair unraveled. His mother gave a strangled cry before drawing him into a tight embrace, one he returned without complaint.

"In the case of Mr. Lucius Malfoy, who finds the defendant guilty?"

The going was slow. Collectively, they all seemed to question themselves. First one hand rose, then another, then another, and… Harry didn't have to count to know there were far too many hands in the air.

"Innocent?"

Not enough. Shacklebolt, who had abstained in this case, did not look happy. The only noticeable acknowledgement Lucius made of his verdict is a gentle tightening of his hand over his wife's on his shoulder. She noticed the lines around Draco's mouth darken and tighten. Narcissa appeared close to tears.

"Lucius Malfoy, you have been found guilty for your criminal acts as a Death Eater on this day the 15th of August. Your sentence-"

"Umm, Minister? Pardon me."

"Yes, Mafalda?"

Harry recognized the petit woman as the witch Hermione impersonated when they'd snuck into the ministry last fall. She couldn't help but think it odd that she now appeared right at home with her surroundings when Hermione had all but shook with every glance in her direction as Mafalda.

"Minister, it is of the consensus of the Wizengamot that the defendant be given a more specific sentencing."

Kingsley looked at her curiously.

"And that specification would be what, Ms. Hopkirk?"

"We are of the notion that the defendant be given a sentence of time served, Minister."

There was a collective gasp from the onlookers. Kingsley raised a single eyebrow at her, perusing the council. None of them seemed to disapprove.

"I find that to be quite fair. What say you, Thinknesse?"

Had this not been so serious a situation, Harrity might have found the expression on Thicknesse's face comical. The former Minister of Magic merely scowled deeply at Kingsley, unwilling to voice his contradicting views.

"Very good, man." Kingsley turned back to the Malfoys. "Lucius Malfoy, you have been found guilty today, and you are free to go. This hearing is adjorned."

By the time Kingsley mallet hit the tabletop, Harry had already disappeared through the courtroom doorway to rejoin Ron and Hermione, nothing but a whisper on the wind of her departure.

Explosions were a common occurrence in the Ministry of Magic, but that was usually a result of some dastardly experiment of Committee on Experimental Charms, occasionally the Aurors would test out a new dark magic detector and things would go awry, but one thing will forever be true of the Department of Mysteries. And that was that it was solely the most organized, the most calm, and the most intellectually sound quarters in the ministry. This was the truth by which every Unspeakable carried out their daily lives as they saw to the happenings of the department. It was the same every day.

_Bang!_

Apparently, not today.

Within seconds, the Department of Mysteries was in complete disarray. The explosion had resounded through the entire department, breaking several security enchantments. Things looked worse than when the Order of Phoenix, some Hogwarts school children, and the Death Eaters had faced off down here three years ago. The Unspeakables were running blindly back and forth across the entrance room, tearing their way through the room of prophecy, and shooting spells this way and that trying to regain some semblance of order.

You'd have thunk the wild American West had manifested in the very bowels of the ministry.

The sand from the giant hourglass in the Time Chamber had dusted the entire level. Thought tentacles had burned holes in the floor, and for those who could hear them, the voices behind the veil in the Death Chamber were screeching their displeasure at being disturbed. And… Was that a tumbleweed that just blew by- Oh, it's just a prophecy tangled in some tentacula leaves.

"What the bloody hell is going on here?"

Head of the Department of Mysteries, Xenobia Magpie, guns blazing and spurs whirring, slammed the door to her office shut. Even the brains ceased their confounded oscilating at her appearance, such was the fury of a Magpie.

No one answered her. The wall next to her blew up, two Unspeakables trailing in the debris.

"Enough!" she cried, pulling her wand. "Immobulus!"

And everything stopped.

"Now, I'll asked again. What the bloody hell is going on here?"

"We're sorry, mistress!" one of the older department members started, still fending off a particularly nasty trio of slowly moving thought tentacles. "But there was an explosion from the Love Chamber. It's caused all this!"

Magpie stunned a brain out of her way, all but flying in the direction of the Ever Locked Room, paying no mind to the noise that resumed in her flight. The door stood, just about blown off its hinges. She flitted past it and into the chamber. The room was in complete disarray, books scattered about the floor, amortentia spitting and sputtering as though aggravated, even one of the stone replicas of Cupid had started flapping around the ceiling.

"What's happened-?"

There at the center of the chamber laid three Unspeakables she recognized as Croaker, Jenks, and a new hire Wilby. All three were unconscious but seemingly unharmed. All three appeared to have been struck by a powerful stunning charm.

She approached carefully.

"Wilby, awaken," she muttered pointing her wand at the young wizard.

The youth sputtered awake.

"Don't touch it!" he gasped.

"Wilby, Wilby, it's alright."

His eyes blinked owlishly at her.

"Mrs. Magpie!"

"Yes, Wilby, it's me. Can you tell me what happened here?"

He burst into explanation, talking so fast, Magpie had to concentrate hard to understand him.

"Yes, ma'am. It was the item. Item 3055, you know. It hasn't been looked at in years, but today. Today it was acting all funny, so I called Croaker and Jenks to come and look, and Jenks said she wanted to open it. I tried to stop her, really, I did, but she was too quick, and then- Ahh!"

Magpie flinched.

"Madam, please don't punish me please. I was only trying to help. I didn't mean for this to happen-"

"Wilby, calm down. You're in no trouble. What happened when Jenks tried to open the item?"

"It… It kaboomed, and something flew out of it! Ehhh, Mistress!"

He latched onto her shoulders shaking her dizzy.

"It's escaped! The item has escaped!"

She gripped for his arms, trying to calm the young wizard.

"Wilby. Wilby! It's okay, nothing can get out of the department of mysteries without-"

Another loud bang sounded. This time ministry alarms began to scream. Crap, she knew what that meant. There'd been a breach in security. That only meant one thing.

"Blasted!"

Something had gotten out that wasn't supposed to get out.

TBC

The Exorcism of Emily Rose is not my property either.


	3. Dybbuk

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the title song for which this chapter was named. It's Dybbuk by Gackt. Rather fitting.

Author's Note: Here's the edited version of chapter 3. Changes of minor details and it reads better now in my opinion.

Consonance 3055

Dybbuk

It was with relief that Draco embraced his father once those godforsaken shackles rattled to the floor.. Around them, the witches and wizards of the Wizengamot dispersed along with any spectators that had been sitting in on the proceedings. Some were grumbling under their breath at the verdict, most looked pleased with the result. Draco didn't care either way. His family was free. He was free. There was nothing anyone could do them.

He smiled to himself, internally, you know, so no one could see, looking away as his mother and father shared a kiss. He hadn't seen his parents so openly affectionate in a long time. It was oddly refreshing. And embarassing… When they broke apart, they began making their way out of the courtroom, their hands entwined.

Draco paused just a moment before following and turned to look over to where little Miss Harrity Potter had been sitting to find her place empty. The girl was nowhere in sight, vanished into thin – or not so thin - air. Draco shook his head, already berating and swallowing down any meaningless disappointment. He had no reason to seek her out. Why should he be disappointed?

"Come, Draco. Let's go home."

He smiled. Home…

The family of three parted the crowd on their way out, hushed voices following their heels. Lucius Malfoy asserted himself through the throng of ministry workers and officials, no less the respectable figures of years past despite the shroud of weariness surrounding him and the whispers trailing his path, his wife, Narcissa, at his side, looking as regal and beautiful as ever. Most bowed away from them, favoring the ear of their nearest comrade, while others openly stared at the freed Malfoy family.

The couple Malfoy simply either did not notice the attention or paid it no mind, holding their heads high with the grace and dignity expected of their renewed status. Nothing, however, was missed by Draco trailing slightly behind, though he too, taking a cue from his parents, moved with the same calm composure as they.

Lucius reached a hand to his shoulder.

"Pay it no attention, son."

"Yes, Father," he said, stepping onto the lift that would take them to the upper levels of the Ministry of Magic and the atrium.

It was odd, he observed, how quickly the attitude of the entire ministry and soon enough probably the entire wizarding community could change at the word of a young girl. Not even two hours before, it had been more than whispers lacing their heels on the way to the Wizengamot.

"_Guilty!"_

"_Disgusting Death Eaters!"_

"_Lock them away, I say!"_

Calls for punishment, imprisonment, even execution had colored their appearance, a soundtrack of distain for the known family of former Death Eaters.

"Level 8, Atrium."

The doors opened with a 'ping', and Draco felt a rush of free air fill his lungs. It really was all over. They would be left alone now.

"Mr. Malfoy!" a voice called from behind him.

Lucius whirled around to see who was calling for him. Narcissa's hold on his hand tightened, and Draco clenched his teeth.

Kingsley Shacklebolt walked briskly toward them.

"What is the meaning of this, Shacklebolt?"

"My apologies, Lucius, but I almost forgot. I have some small business with Draco."

His head popped up at the mention of his name. Shacklebolt studied him quietly, warmth radiating from his chocolate colored irises. Draco looked from his father to his mother in question. At their acceptance he addressed the man before him.

"Minister?"

"Yes, Draco, if you'll give me just a moment."

The man began looking for something hidden in his robes before continuing.

"Miss Potter requested I deliver this to you."

Draco's eyes flashed at this unforeseen development, his jaw going slack in wonder, pupils dilating in euphoria at the sight of the item in Shacklebolt's hand.

"She said it belonged to you," he explained, handing the teen a thin wand, hawthorn, 10 inches, unicorn hair, and if Draco remembered Ollivander's description correctly, reasonably springy. Light but solid, its weight settled in his hand with the familiarity of seeing an old friend. As if recognizing its old owner, the wand glowed a soft amber for a heartbeat and then puffed out a burst of white sparks that only just missed the hem of the ministers robes.

Looking a tad sheepish, or at least as sheepish as a Malfoy could afford to appear, Draco tucked the wand away in his inside pocket after giving the handle a fond squeeze. Shacklebolt just laughed.

"Yes, I can certainly see it belongs to you, young Malfoy. Miss Potter sends her gratitude for allowing her to borrow it."

Uhuh… 'Borrow it' his house elf! The witch all but broke his hand prying it from his fingers several months back, the little thief, but he squashed his ire. It didn't matter anymore. The wand was with its rightful owner once again. He shouldn't complain, though he could harmlessly daydream whenever he felt particularly vengeful.

"Thank you"

"Not at all, young master. And one more thing…"

He hands Draco a thick envelope with a Hogwarts seal on center fold. Ah, yes. He'd heard Hogwarts was inviting back students from the year prior in order to give them a chance to complete their education in a decent manner. No one ever did get to graduate last year.

"That will be your booklist for your next year at Hogwarts. Prof. McGonagall expects you to be in attendance. Lucius, Narcissa, congratulations on the outcome of your hearing. We are all pleased with the outcome-"

Alarms blared from the ceiling tops of the atrium. Metal grates slammed down on the fireplaces lining the entrance. Office doors were slamming shut of their own accord, and the witch at the reception desk was speaking, wand tip at her throat.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, please remain calm. All entrances and exits will be temporarily barred. There has been a break in security on level 9. An item has escaped the Department of Mysteries. I repeat; an item has escaped the Department of Mysteries. Everyone, please remain calm."

Most of the surrounding witches and wizards adhered to her instruction, but there were the scattered few who decided not to listen and panic anyway. It made things quite the mess. One of them, a tall, long limbed warlock, just about barreled over Draco, tripping the boy up and nearly sending him to the floor.

"Draco," Narcissa called. "Come here."

She reached for his hand whilst Lucius aimed to catch a grip on his shoulder. Draco's nails actually scratched his mother's sleeve when a flash of light blinded everyone in the atrium, and something flew straight into his gut.

His vision swam.

The hit propelled him backward, and he collided dead on with something before landing flat on the floor face down. In the back of his mind, he registered the shouts of his parents and the worried voices of the surrounding crowd. The first thing to reach cognizance was that other than just having had some mysterious ball of light crash into his stomach and being propelled half way across the bloody ministry, he felt relatively no pain. His elbows would bruise along with his knees, and he might be a little scraped, but whatever had cushioned his fall had saved him most of the damage. In fact, the thing he'd been flung into – the wall, door, floor, whatever it was – was actually fairly soft…

And it was groaning.

His eyes opened wide. He was lying across someone's stomach.

He moved to get up, but the action was too quick. Whoever was beneath him let out a sharp gasp, so he slowed, unwilling to cause them further harm. It wasn't until he had lifted his body weight completely off the other person that he swiveled his head around to check on his accidental savior.

"Are you alright?"

He froze stiffer than a deer caught in wandlights, caught in the gaze of the most brilliant of green eyes.

* * *

If you asked her why she left the courtroom so quickly, she honestly wouldn't be able to tell you why. It just didn't feel right staying. Besides, she had to get going. The hearing had taken far longer than she'd expected. Harrity was relieved to find that Ron and Hermione had been waiting for her just as they'd promised.

"Harry!"

"How'd it go?"

She let out her breath before answering.

"Not bad… Actually quite good considering."

"What was the verdict? Did they say?"

The anxious look on Hermione's face spoke louder than words. Ron, too, appeared interested in her answer, despite his earlier reluctance to let her testify. They followed when she started walking to the nearby lift.

"Draco and Narcissa have been found innocent, the charges against them dropped, Lucius Malfoy however…" She trailed off, her attention caught by a certain Pius Thicknesse storming from the courtroom in a fury, looking ready to exact death and dismemberment on the next poor soul to cross his path, as the lift closed shut before her. Hermione's voice brought her back to her friends.

"What about Lucius?"

"Well, they convicted him, didn't they," inserted Ron. Hermione glared at him. "Two-faced git never really had a chance at being found innocent."

He seemed to finally notice the look his girlfriend was gracing him with.

"N-not that I think he deserves a life sentence or nothing. I'm just saying. How could they find him innocent with so much piled against him? Never mind that he really was a Death Eater. Sheesh, Hermione, you'd think I didn't have a soul."

That seemed to appease the bushy haired brunette.

"So how hard did they come down on him?" whispered Ron into Harrity's ear. She shook her head at him.

"Yes, well it's a good thing they let him go with a sentence of time served. I expect he'll have some probation time to serve, but at least he'll be with his family."

Harry had to stifle a laugh at Ronald's gaping expression. If only she had a hook. She might fancy a day at the fishing hole. Hermione was about to have a field day, if the small smile forming on her face was any indication.

"Level 8, Atrium."

The trio exited the lift. Harrity tuned out the bickering already starting up from either side of her. Ron's pouting and Hermione's chiding, as entertaining as they were to listen to, just didn't hold any appeal to her at the moment. There were too many people staring and pointing, whispering and beaming. Hero, she might have been, but the limelight just wasn't for her. Merlin knew, the Prophet had been publishing only the most dastardly of stories lately. Wild tales of how she'd brought down the most powerful dark wizard that ever lived. She paid them no mind; heck, she'd even cancelled her subscription for the next year or so, but still every time she left the sanctity of home and family the news caught up to her.

She could swear by Dumbledore's slippers there was a pair of witches not three feet away from her talking about how she'd defeated You-Know-Who's entire army of dementors single-handedly armed with a half broken wand.

What rubbish!

"Are you sure you won't come with us to Australia, Harry? It'll be so much fun."

The girl-who-lived started. It took her a couple seconds to reconnect to the topic of conversation. That's right. They'd talked about this the day before. Ron and Hermione would be leaving today to find Mr. and Mrs. Granger, so Hermione could return them their memories. They'd asked her to come along, but she had refused preferring to stay in London for the next few months despite the insanity of the Daily Prophet.

"What? Sorry, yes, I'm sure. I want some time to myself, is all."

Her two best friends shared a worried glance as they stopped beside the newly restored Fountain of Magical Brethren.

"So this is it then?" asked Ron. You're really going to stay here all by yourself, mate. What are you going to do?"

"I dunno…" she answered truthfully. "I think I might visit Teddy and Andromeda, maybe listen in on a few of the hearings. More than likely I'll just get on with redecorating Grimmauld Place a bit. It could use for a bit more sunshine, and it'll be a good pastime. I think it will be a pleasant change, don't you think? To have a nice boring summer for once…"

They looked unconvinced. Really, she couldn't blame them. After all they'd been through together in the last year, she was honestly surprised they'd even let her out of the house to present at the trial today. Since the end of the war, they'd been her infrequent shadows, staying by her and with her whenever she ventured out.

"Maybe we could wait a bit," suggested Hermione. "I'm sure in a couple of days-"

"Hermione."

Harry cut her off.

"I know you're both worried about me, but I'm fine, honestly. I just need time to sort everything out. Go find your parents. Merlin's beard, you've waited long enough as it is what with wanting to make sure everything was safe beforehand. Everything is fine, now, and don't you dare lie to me, I know how much you've missed them."

The girl seemed to finally understand that Harrity did not want to intrude on the reunion of parents and daughter. Ron would be there to support Hermione, and he would no doubt be introduced formally as her boyfriend. Harry didn't have a part in that, and she was alright with it. Ron, whose own brother had been laid to rest not three months ago. Hermione, whose parents still could not remember their daughter. She owed them so much more than she could give in a lifetime. They needed the chance to move forward in their lives with each other – that, at least, she could give them. And while she knew she would always have a place in their hearts, it still hurt to ponder it too closely.

She needed to find her own future.

But right now, all she wanted to do was to retreat her new home, at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, get herself in order. Settle in. Kreacher was probably waiting for her.

"Oh, Harry!"

Hermione's eyes glittered with tears, and the taller girl flung herself into Harrity's arms. The smaller girl tried to console her best friend, patting her back and cooing into her ear. She wasn't all out bawling, but Harry could feel her hiccupping into her shoulder, accented by the occasional sniffle. When Hermione drew back it was with her usual composure and a single dab at her eye.

"Promise you'll write to us."

"I will."

"And don't forget to let us know if anything important comes up."

"Hermione, it's alright. Don't worry. It's just a few weeks."

She finally conceded, stepping out of the way for her red-haired boyfriend.

"You better not be lying, mate."

It was Ron's turn to envelope her in a hug.

"Knowing her, if we don't hear from you for more than three days at a time, she'll drop everything just to come here and check on you."

Harry chuckled, letting him go.

"You know it's true."

"I'll keep that in mind," she laughed, giving Ron's shoulder one last squeeze before he stepped backward to stand next to Hermione. The pair took hold of each others' hands, preparing to apparate to the Burrow where Ron would bid goodbye to his family.

"We'll see you in a few weeks, Harry. Don't do anything to recklessly boring while we're gone."

"Have fun, you guys. Say hello to your parents for me."

"Goodbye, Harry."

She waved them off, smiling softly as the air folded. There was a soft pop, and they were gone. She closed her eyes and turned to do the same.

Alarms sounded.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, please remain calm. All entrances and exits will be temporarily barred. There has been a break in security on level 9. An item has escaped the Department of Mysteries. I repeat; an item has escaped the Department of Mysteries. Everyone, please remain calm."

Harry pulled her wand from her robes.

"Look out!"

Something slammed into her, knocking the wind from her lungs and the glasses off her face.

There was shouting all around her. Did she black out? She was lying on her side. She could feel the migraine already pulsing behind her eyelids. The dull pain at the back of her skull throbbed with the rise and fall of the voices. She just wanted everybody to shut up, though it would be nice, too, if whatever had hit her would get off.

"Urgh!"

She'd thought too soon. Apparently whatever had hit had been a living thing that had just tried to move, jostling her pained body. It stopped at her gasp, though, whatever it was, and went about removing itself from her person a hair slower. It helped some. Soon enough, its weight disappeared entirely, and she could breathe once again.

"Are you alright?"

The voice was oddly familiar.

She winced a bit but eventually her eyelids lifted, allowing her to squint at the pale blur before her. Her hands pushed her into a semi-sitting position while she blinked away the fogginess. When she finally could see, she let out a strange hiccup at the grey eyes staring back at her.

Well, this was awkward…

* * *

The blonde wasn't sure just how long they sat their simply staring at each other. She didn't move. He didn't move. He hoped the standstill didn't last for more than a few seconds, but like he said he didn't know.

"Are you alright, Potter?"

She blinked at him a moment, her face unreadable, before nodding.

"Just a little dizzy…"

Draco pulled himself together and moved to stand up, green eyes following his progress. She started to shuffle her feet underneath her about to follow suit, but she paused when his hand reached down to assist her. The shock was definable on her face.

"Unless of course you'd rather stay on the floor," he teased, the trademark Malfoy smirk on his face.

That got her moving. She begrudgingly took his offered hand, allowing him to pull her to standing. And just as she was about to rise up, there was a snap, accompanied by the flash of what was, undoubtedly, a camera.

"Mr. Malfoy, Miss Potter, would either of you like to make a statement to the prophet on today's events?"

The girl seemed ready to bolt, choosing instead to cower backwards into the Malfoy heir as a little wizard, quill and parchment at the ready, crowded into her personal space. Several others followed, all their questions ringing to the topmost levels of the atrium. Well the plan had been to slip away, but, no doubt still disoriented from the fall, she staggered backwards instead. Draco had to catch her round the waist, lest she end up on the floor again.

"Miss Potter, what's your opinion on the outcome of the trial?"

"Mr. Malfoy, what just hit you?"

"Are you alright, Miss Potter?"

Draco grabbed the witch around the shoulders, all but wrestled them away from the horde of reporters. Sadly, he didn't get very far as his back met the wall. Potter was squirming to get away, but she stumbled closer to him, a hand at her, probably throbbing temple, and an anxious look on her face accompanying the dizziness no doubt still affecting her from the fall. The sight prompted him to push her behind him as though to shield her from the onslaught of people.

Another camera flashed in his face.

"Mr. Malfoy, do you feel indebted to the Chosen One after the events of today?" inquired one flirtatious looking witch, therefore, starting up a brand new assault of question. Draco was tempted to hex the life out of her. Thankfully, though, before he could reach for his wand, several voices came to their rescue.

"Draco!"

"Harrity!"

His parents were pushing their way through the gathered crowd, closely followed by the Minister of Magic, himself.

"Away with the lot of you! Can't you bloody well see that there's been an accident?"

That seemed reason enough for the crowd to disperse, and in the silence that replaced it, Draco noticed for the first time that the alarms had stopped.

"Draco, are you alright?"

"Yes, Mother," he grumbled, as she immediately started her own personal evaluation of his person, patting him down and looking for any possible injuries. "Mother, I said I'm fine!"

"You should consider yourself lucky, young Malfoy."

He turned away from her. Shacklebolt was attending to Potter, who was holding her head with on hand while the other held her up against the wall. She looked at him, curiously.

"There aren't many who can afford to be hit by unknown magic and come out unscathed."

"What were you hit by?"

Potter's question sounded almost genuinely concerned, if not for his sake than for his situation. Draco raised an eyebrow at her.

"It looked like a spell, but I really can't be sure."

"Whatever it was," inserted Narcissa. "It doesn't seem to carry any immediate effects."

"An attack no doubt," proclaimed Lucius, taking a tight grip on his son's shoulder. "Provided a failed one."

"Lucius, do you honestly believe-"

"Shacklebolt," the Malfoy head continued over his wife. "I refuse to allow my family to remain here a moment longer when such aggression is being shown to us. I demand the wards that prevent us from leaving be lifted this instant."

"Yes, Lucius, I quite agree. I can promise you there will be an inquiry of everyone present, and if you'll give me a moment, I shall adjust the wards to allow for your safe return home."

"Thank you."

Shacklebolt closed his eyes to focus on the task of loosening the ministry wards, his wand tip lit pale blue as he moved it in an obscure circular pattern. Narcissa took the hand of her husband and pulled him to the side, Draco left in their wake, as they began a quiet debate. Narcissa, obviously, did not share the same views as her husband. Potter, on the other hand, didn't appear concerned with her environment at all. She was too busy kneading her temples with her fingertips.

He was not sure what possessed him to go up to her, but Draco found himself all to soon placing a hand on the wall next to her.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

The girl started with a jolt, dropping her hands to her sides.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just my head."

It's the first time Draco has had a chance to really look at her since the Battle for Hogwarts. Her hair was longer, but her eyes were still as impossibly green as ever, the color punctuated by the growing bags below them. She looked weary, a bit thinner around the edges than he remembered her ever being during their years at Hogwarts, and she was paler than was acceptable for summer. He wonders if she's been eating properly. He couldn't really blame her for struggling through this aftermath. They had all taken the worst from the war, she probably more than anybody else.

"No faithful sidekicks today?"

She winced, hand coming up again to massage her forehead.

"And you care because," she snapped.

Draco sighed and drew his wand. There'd be no talking to her like this.

"Come here," he spoke gently, taking a step toward her.

"What are you doing?"

"Just a pain spell my mother taught me when I was younger."

She just looked at him suspiciously.

"Come on, it'll help."

Her frown withered, and she shuffled just a hair closer. Taking that as permission, Draco lifted his wand to the back of her head.

"Thampiosk(1)."

Her facial features instantly relaxed with relief. Her eyes widened, in mild amazement. Draco had to remind himself that she grew up amongst muggles.

"Thank you," she whispered, avoiding looking at him.

"You're welcome."

He flashed her a smirk.

"Now about those sidekicks of yours," he drawled. "Do you think if they'd been here, we might have avoided that little photoshoot?"

"Malfoy!"

She appeared to be seriously contemplating punching him.

"Minister! Minister!" came a yell from the far side of the atrium, pull both of the teenagers' attention away from the other.

Two ministry workers, Unspeakables if their badges were indicative of anything, were running towards them. One of them, the male, looked like he'd just been confunded and successfully tripped on the hem of his robes landing facedown on the floor. The other just kept running. She almost knocked Harrity Potter over again to get to the concentrating minister.

"Minister! We've lost track of the item!"

"I don't have time for this, Magpie," he replied without opening his eyes. "Lucius, you're clearance has gone through."

"Thank you, Minister. Draco?" called his father.

Draco slid away from Potter and toward his mother and father.

"But, sir, you don't understand-"

"I'm sure whatever item escaped your department will return itself eventually. Right now, I will be escorting Miss Potter home. I am afraid she might have a concussion. Now if you'll excuse me, we can talk about your item when I return."

The woman looked rightfully angry, but she stepped back. It was the last thing Draco saw before he disapparated back to Malfoy Manor.

* * *

"Kingsley, I promise you, I'm fine," she insisted, stepping up the walk to Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

"I believe you, Harry, but when you say you're fine, it could mean anything from a bruise to critical bloodloss. You'll understand if I have a quick word with Kreacher before I depart."

He let himself in, Harry following behind him.

"Kreacher," she called softly.

"Mistress has returned, and she brings company."

Kingsley takes Harry by the arm, leading her into her own sitting room.

"Your mistress has had a bit of an accident, Kreacher. Do you think you could help me brew her up a remedy?"

"Of course. Kreacher lives to serve Mistress."

They both disappeared through the kitchen door, Kingsley instructing her to stay put.

She sighed.

She couldn't imagine what the heck had happened to cause the cacophony, and why did it have to be her that was hit? She could really do without the article that was sure to be printed in the Prophet in the morning. (It's like really… One of the witches asked her if she'd ever had a crush on Malfoy during their time at school) Thank Merlin she had cancelled her subscription.

Ron and Hermione would not be happy. She could already imagine her best friends' responses. Hermione would worry and mother hen her until she pulled her hair out, and Ron would probably just laugh his arse off at her predicament, though admittedly, that would be after he threatened death and dismemberment on Malfoy.

"Bloody Malfoy!"

Of all the people in the world she would have ram into her, he had to be the last, barring Voldemort of course, yet the fates seemed to have it in for her. Granted, the normally arrogant blonde had been acting relatively pleasant about the whole thing. Helping her up, shielding her from the press, and even casting a pain spell over her head. It was unusual, but she was certain his politeness was attributed to the fact that she had just represented on his family's behalf in court not minutes before.

Regardless, it definitely hadn't been the worst Malfoy interaction she'd ever had.

That is until he decided to strike up a conversation. Bloody, pure-blood had the audacity to try and tease her about Ron and Hermione's absence. Him, Draco Malfoy, the guy whose family she had just gone out on a limb to defend, had the audacity to imply that she couldn't go out on her own without Ron and Hermione being there with her. That she couldn't avoid the press without her faithful "sidekicks." Che, never mind that the whole situation even happened on account of him.

"Git!"

Kingsley reentered the sitting room, Kreacher at his heels, carrying a small goblet filled with what was apparently a smoking potion.

"Mistress should drink this. Kreacher's potion will help with Mistress' head injury."

"No it's alright, Kreacher. I'm fine."

She suppressed the fact that that was thanks to Malfoy.

"I suggest you take it, Harrity," advised Kingsley. "House elf remedies are might powerful, best to mend any possible concussion before you are tempted to go to sleep."

Harry sighed but accepted the proffered cup.

"Well, I'd best be going then. You seem to be in good hands here, Harrity. I have a ministry to clean up."

"Thank you, Kingsley. You really didn't have to come out here."

"Nonsense," he laughed, gathering himself to apparate. "It's the least I can do for our hero. Farewell, Harry, Kreacher. Keep a good eye on her."

The house elf bowed low to the minister as he disappeared.

"Kreacher will get started on dinner. Mistress should rest until Kreacher is finished."

And he too left the room to return to the kitchen, leaving Harry alone.

She sighed.

She'd best get started on the letter to Ron and Hermione explaining what happened. They'd never forgive her if they heard it from the Daily Prophet first.

TBC

1 Taken from the Greek phrase Thampo o Ponos which means to dull the pain.


End file.
